There was once a tiny planet full of herbivores. The herbivores, being herbivores, ate nothing but herbs. Where did they get their herbs from? Their planet was kind enough to provide them with all the herbs they ever needed. Generations of herbivores thrived and the population of herbivores kept growing. It seemed like they would just keep on growing. Soon some very smart herbivores drew a few lines on a graph and this apparently meant that if things kept going as good as they were, soon there wouldn’t be any herbs left. If you were a herbivore and knew how to read these lines, then you agreed with the terrible outcome. If you were a herbivore and didn’t know how to read these lines, then you disagreed with the terrible outcome. If you were a herbivore and knew how to read the lines, but disagreed with the terrible outcome, then you had probably done badly in school. No matter how you felt about the outcome, all herbivores unanimously agreed to do nothing about it. Incredible, considering that herbivores constantly told each other how bad things would be getting. They yelled about it through gigantic megaphones, they wrote about it on gigantic paper, they sung about it in gigantic verses. But every herbivore would only want to yell, or write, or sing about it from nine in the morning until five at night. After that they just wanted to go home, put up their feet – of which they had twelve – and eat a big bowl of herbs.

Herbivores had been around for centuries. Nothing brought them more pride than celebrating the greatest herbivores of their time. This year they had decided to celebrate those scientists who had been so clever to figure out that their planet would soon be in a terrible state. What better way to acknowledge these brilliant minds than to shower them with medals and smother them with diplomas. Each award said, “Well done you. You figured out that everything was going badly before anyone else saw it. Here is an award to acknowledge that you’ve helped us. It’s five o’clock, you can go home now.” The ceremony was to be broadcast on live television at five in the evening! It was a global event and the first of its kind. Herbivores from all over the world gathered friends and family and sat down in front of the glowing noise boxes with bowls of herbs all around and listened to the words that the smart herbivores were going to say. The smart herbivores were going to say something because those who had given them the awards asked them to say something. They asked them to make it big and dramatic, and most importantly contentious. The herbivores who asked this knew that this would mean there would be many viewers and all those viewers would see lots of adverts for all the different herbs they could buy. Everyone benefited. The scientist got to say what they wanted to say, the listeners got to eat what they wanted to eat, and the award givers got to earn what they wanted to earn. Everyone benefited! Except the planet. The planet didn’t get to eat what it wanted to eat. The planet didn’t get to say what it wanted to say. And the planet didn’t get to earn what it wanted to earn. The planet didn’t care for these things, because it was a large pile of hot rock that was pinned to a wheel spinning around a hot sun.

One clever herbivore had taken a photo of this planet. A few decades ago, the herbivore had been floating in space inside the safety of a metal cage that other herbivores had built him. He was eating some special dried herbs that smart people had made for him so he wouldn’t starve while he was floating up there. He was looking down at the planet, and because he was so far away from it, the planet looked like a blue marble. This made him laugh. He pretended to hold the planet between two fingers and laughed and laughed. Then he pressed his fingers together and pretended to squash it. When he pulled his fingers apart the planet was still there. He started to cry. He went and grabbed his camera and floated back to the porthole that emptied onto the space where the blue marble hung. He took a photo and sent it herbivores who were listening to him back on the marble. The photo was a message. The floating herbivore wanted to warn all the tiny herbivores on the planet that their marble might be squashed. How easy it was to squash such as small marble.

That photo of the blue marble now sits on the mantelpiece of the most powerful herbivore to have ever lived. It hasn’t been cleaned in a while and there is a lot of dust on it. But it’s there on the mantelpiece so it means something to those who see it. The most powerful herbivore who ever lived owns a factory that produces herbs. She inherited it from her father who inherited it from his mother. It makes her sad that she is growing and digging up so many herbs annually. She’s so sad that she carries a very expensive linen, gold laced handkerchief around with her for times when she needs something to catch her tears. All herbivores with lots of money carry around expensive handkerchiefs with gold lace to cry into. Herbivores with lots of money are made to feel sad. They are emotionally punished by the world so that the herbivores with less money don’t have to feel so bad about eating herbs. The herbs with less money don’t carry around any baggage except grocery bags to and from the stores. To and from the stores. Some herbivores drive incredibly large trucks full to the brim with herbs. These trucks run on herb oil that lets them drive all around the world. The herbivores that drive these trucks don’t carry handkerchiefs with gold lace around with them. The herbivores that tell the drivers where to drive each morning don’t carry handkerchiefs with gold lace around with them. The herbivores that sketch complex plans for the year that are read by herbivores who tell the drivers where to drive each morning don’t carry handkerchiefs with gold lace around with them. The herbivore that sits at the front desk of the office building to welcome people into the building where the complex plans are made doesn’t carry handkerchiefs with gold lace around with them. The herbivore that sits in the largest room with the largest desk in the tallest story of the building with the herbivore at the front desk carries all the handkerchiefs with gold lace for all of them. That’s their job. But they only carry those handkerchiefs from nine until five.